


In the Act

by mitslits



Series: Prompts [36]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>any kingsman pairing and they are breaking into an office during a party and thinking they are about to get caught decide to pretend they were having a booty call - only they get a little to into the charade :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Act

“Nervous, Galahad?” Merlin mutters into his flute of champagne, smirking slightly. 

Harry side-eyes him, huffing out an indignant breath and curling his hands into loose fists to keep them from shaking. “Aren’t _you_? You’re not even meant to be on field missions,” he retorts. 

Though it’s true that Merlin is usually watching from the other side of the screen, it helps that Harry isn’t used to this either. It’s only his third mission, after all, and the first two were relatively simple ones. Merlin has monitored seven. He has more experience and he’s using it to wrap himself in a facade of confidence. After all, he doesn’t have to be good, he just has to be better than Harry. Or, at the very least, calmer than Harry. “The new proposals are already halfway through their training. This is only temporary,” he says, half to reassure himself as well as the other agent. He drains the rest of his champagne glass, eyes scanning for their target, only to be rewarded with an elbow to his ribs.

The only response he receives from Harry (the source of the elbow) when he glares at him is an unapologetic shrug. “You were being too obvious.”

Snorting, Merlin goes back to watching the crowd, trying in vain to spot the target. He’s beginning to wonder if he should have taken a closer look at the picture provided in his file when Harry nudges him again, gentler this time, and flicks his head casually in one direction. 

“Just there,” he says softly, in case anyone’s in earshot. 

Merlin follows the path indicated by his cavalier head toss and, sure enough, Viktor Carpathia is emerging from a barely-noticeable side door. He can’t help but be a little impressed with Harry’s powers of observation; Viktor is a rather unassuming man and the alcove could have easily been skipped over. “He’s out of the office,” he murmurs, tapping the side of his glasses. 

Once they’ve received the all-clear from Kingsman, Harry begins to weave his way through the crowd. Merlin watches him from the corner of his eye, noting the way he stops to make casual conversation with several clusters, flitting from place to place until it seems entirely accidental that he ends up near the alcove. He leans on the wall nearby, looking for all the world as if he’s just taking a break from the crush of the partygoers, but Merlin knows better. Merlin knows that his hands are skillfully working a lockpick into the door handle, twisting until… There. Even from across the room Merlin can catch the quick flash of smug satisfaction that flits over Harry’s face as he swings the door inwards. 

Quick as a flash the alcove is empty once again, looking for all the world as if somebody didn’t just sneak their way in there. 

Merlin’s turn and he’s finally feeling those nerves Harry mentioned. Despite his teasing, Galahad really is quite good and Merlin… isn’t. He can handle himself with a weapon, yes, but blending in? That he’s not so skilled in. Still, he does his best to imitate Harry’s path across the room, sticking mostly on the outer circles of conversations, absorbing a few words before moving on to the next rotation. 

Perhaps he draws a few odd looks, but no prolonged stares, no suspicious eyes that could raise an alarm. “I’ll stand guard outside,” he mutters, knowing the glasses will pick it up.

He doesn’t get a reply, but that’s only to be expected. Harry is probably too busy rooting through folders to reply. But that doesn’t seem to be the case as the door at his back swings open and he feels a hand close around the back of his collar. Tensing, an excuse as to what he was doing so close to Carpathia’s office springs to his lips but he doesn’t get the chance to say it. 

There’s just time for him to hear a muttered, “Go with it,” before his back is pressed up against the re-closed door and Harry is practically molded to his front. His eyes fly wide open as the agent brings their lips together, arching his back to get even closer. 

When Merlin doesn’t do much in response (he’s still a little busy trying to process what the fuck is happening), Harry makes a small noise in the back of his throat and grabs one of Merlin’s hands with his. He guides it down to his arse and deliberately places it there, keeping his own hand there until he’s sure Merlin’s won’t fall away. 

After a couple more seconds in which Merlin doesn’t do much in the way of reciprocating, Harry pulls back slightly, moving his lips close to Merlin’s ear and whispering, “Thought I said go with it. Second entrance, someone’s coming.” 

That’s when he sees it. A second door on the opposite side of the room. And the doorknob is indeed rattling. Merlin is not going to fuck up the one field mission he’s likely to get. He dips his head, capturing Harry’s lips again and pushing the two of them away from the door. 

Harry’s hand curls in the front of his suit as he’s walked backwards, only stopping when he bumps into the desk. But Merlin doesn’t stop, not really, and he finds himself bending over backwards, practically dragging the magician down on top of him. His legs fall apart, creating a V that Merlin slots into perfectly. 

Merlin forgets that there was a reason for this in the first place until he hears the distinct sound of a door opening followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to intrude,” blusters some unfortunate soul and not long after there’s the unmistakable sound of the door closing again. 

He pulls back, breathing more heavily than he was before and blinks at the sight in front of him. Harry looks far more debauched than he has any right to look, lips red and kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide open, and his clothes sufficiently mussed. And the damn git is smirking. 

Merlin steps back, clearing his throat, and looking away. “Get the files, then, and let’s get out of here.” 

Slowly, taking his time about it, Harry peels himself off the desk, smoothing a hand through his hair and adjusting every article of clothing minutely. “Tell me if you hear anyone else coming,” he smirks. 

In Merlin’s opinion Harry takes far longer than he needs to digging up what they need. If he didn’t know him better he might even think he _wanted_ to be caught again. 

 


End file.
